The Unfortunate
by Kellen
Summary: We're a sad, sad family. Alphonsecentric introspection featuring brotherly angst.


_The Unfortunate_

_by Kellen_

_Summary: We are a sad, sad family. Alphonse-centric introspection, with brotherly angst._

_Rating: PG, just for general wangstiness_

_Disclaimer: All things affiliated with Fullmetal Alchemist are the intellectual property of Hiromu Arakawa, and is licensed by companies that I have no stock in. In other words, own FMA? You've got to be kidding me._

_Author's Notes: Al wanted the spotlight. Kel wanted to try something different. So we get armored angstiness in present tense first person. I think I just needed a break from the action I've been trying to write and this became just the thing. Now I can write my action without agonizing over my shallowness in "Vengeance" and "A Strong Will" because I dug a little deeper and changed some styles I've developed in other writing. Pardon me if this sucks. Like I said, just trying something different. (I'm trying to justify a pointless short almost drabble, and did I mention it has no point?)_

_Additional Note/Warning: I have a strong desire to rewrite this into an actual story. Should you wish to read it critically and offer your advice, I would be more than happy to hear it.

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Brother's fighting again. He's a professional, after all. A soldier. He can't fool me, though. I know he likes a good scuffle. Brother's got too much energy and life to be still for very long.

Fighting's what he does best. He fights in the name of the military. He fights in his own name. He fights for me.

I wish he wouldn't. I watch him land a punch on some unlucky man's jaw. Whether it was the man who insulted me or not, I really can't tell. I wasn't paying any attention at the time, not until Brother took offense.

I sigh. "Brother! You know that's enough."

He looks at me, one hand wrapped in a man's coat, the other fist cocked and ready. "But, Al! He called you-"

He sounds so childish. "I know, Ed, but isn't it enough?"

Brother looks around at the small group of men groaning and moaning on the ground. He blinks. "Uh, no?"

If I had eyes to roll, I would have rolled them. "Brother!"

He drops the man. "Aw, don't sound so scandalized, Al!" He looks around, grinning, inanely happy in his defense of me. "I didn't hurt them." A man groans, coughs, and whimpers. "Much." He looks at me, and I can see the hurt and guilt and sadness behind the huge grin. "Besides, they deserved every bit of it and more!"

I make a sound like a sigh again – I can't really sigh – and look at him intently. Ed's head rolls forward, until he stares at the ground. He's ashamed. Feeling guilty.

I want to yell at him. How can I keep doing this? Every time he looks at me, I see how horrible he feels. Sometimes I wonder if it's because I'm a soul encased in armor or if he's guilty over that I even exist still.

I can't believe I'm starting to feel guilty over him feeling guilty.

We are a sad, sad family. Dad left, Mom's dead, and two quarreling, not quite human brothers are left. No wonder people have looked at us and called us unfortunate souls.

"Uh, Al?" Brother's voice seems far, far away. "Are you all right?"

I can't help it; the questions bubbles up and I can't stop it. "Are you sad because I'm like this?" I thumped my chest-plate. "Or is it because I'm even alive?"

I feel bad instantly. Ed stares at me, with his mouth open and eyes wide, probably unable to even believe that his brother – the one he calls "kindness in a can" – would even think to speak to him in this way.

I didn't think. That's the problem.

I think I just made things worse. Now I'm feeling guilty again. I turn to leave. I can't stick around; I'd just say something else that will hurt him.

I can't do that to Brother. Not again.

We may the unfortunate souls, and a sad, sad family, but we're all the family we've got. Especially out here, traveling together, away from everybody we know.

"Al?" His voice is so child-like. He's whimpering, hurt. Hurt because of me. "Al, wait!"

I can't wait. He wants to talk.

Wants to talk about how he'd give his other arm and leg if it meant I would live somehow. Wants to tell me that I'm still his little brother. Wants to reassure me.

Well, I won't let him. Because, right now, I'm not human. I don't feel human at all.

I just hurt my brother. My brother who would give his life for mine.

Yeah, that's love.

Did I mention that we're a sad, sad, unfortunate family?

"Al!"

His voice carries on the wind; I'm not sure if I'm hearing things or if the breeze is distorting the tone, but there's still hurt and guilt there, but something else is there. Something warm and friendly, and full of love. I turn. I can't resist looking.

He's standing there, not quite looking at me, but not totally looking away either. He points to his left, up the road and out of town. "I'm headed that way." He rolls his eyes toward me, and I can suddenly see something there.

Not guilt. Not sadness. Not even anger.

Just plain love.

"You coming?" he asks.

If I could smile, I would. I want nothing more than to smile to reassure him. To apologize. I turn as he starts on his path, and run to catch up. I can hear the wind whistling a bit through my armor. I want to believe I can feel it.

For a moment, I think I do. For only a moment… "I feel alive."

I didn't realize I had said it aloud until Brother looks back and smiles. His smile shone bright enough for the both of us, I think.

We're a sad, sad family, but maybe we're not so unfortunate.

_End…_

_I did it. I (w)angsted in under a thousand words. Shoot me. Next I'll be doing sap. _

…_must go read action stories…_


End file.
